


Cigarette

by LunaStellaCat



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 09:52:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13121280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunaStellaCat/pseuds/LunaStellaCat
Summary: Minerva McGonagall helps a friend.





	Cigarette

Written for HSWW Challenges and Assignments 

“Cigarette”

 

He smoked his last cigarette. 

Elphinstone did this seventeen years ago, and again for a brief time after the war; he managed seven months, four days, if memory served Minerva correctly, and he did quite well until he returned to it, welcomed back like a lover with open arms. 

This time he lasted three days. Thinking he’d finally gotten over Benjamin Fenwick’s death, a man who had been like a son to him, Elphinstone found a box of letters buried in the attic, unsent correspondence, and it knocked the air out of him. The one-sided conversations sprinkled with cynicism and humor, played back in Elphinstone’s mind in Benjy’s happy, chipper voice. Minerva imagined it this way, in any event, for Elphinstone did not delve into the loss. 

Elphinstone stamped out the cigarette and struggled to light another. His hands got worse with arthritis. Minerva tapped on the manse window, jarring him, turned to one of her family members, and stepped outside as she pulled on Elphinstone’s winter coat. She played the part of the reverend’s daughter because she’d come home from school, and although the woman wore the plainest Muggle clothes, the old lawyer found her simplicity charming. 

She stepped out into the cold, buttoning the coat. Minerva, a stickler, stuck to the old hairstyle, through dark strands blew in her face. She walked over to him, took the purple lighter, and ignited the flame, guarding it with her hand. 

“Better?” She pocketed the lighter and snapped her fingers, asking for the parcel. 

Elphinstone surrendered it over, no doubt making a mental note of the eight left. The reverend rarely allowed magic within the walls of his home, and Elphinstone rather liked pretending to be a Muggle in the Scottish Highlands. He called this place home, too, Minerva knew, though he came from Inverness and arrived a generation before her. He wore subtle signs of his age. The crinkly eyed smile won people over, but his muscles ached and sickness greeted him like an old friend every winter.

“I’m not one of your students, Professor,” he said, taking a long pull on the cigarette. 

“This winds back the clock,” she said, sniffing sharply through her nose and hugging herself. They said nothing for the longest time; when two people were together as long as they, words proved unnecessary. Minerva sighed, cleared her throat, and took his hand. “It’s Benjamin.” 

“My chest hurts. A word pops in my head, or one of his phrases comes screaming at me out of nowhere, and I can't…I can’t breathe,” said Elphinstone tapping the ashes off the cigarette. Minerva nodded. She draped an arm around his waist and suggested they go for a walk. “He was thirty-four, and he’s …. he’s gone.” 

Elphinstone cursed like a practiced sailor; they spilled out as he attempted to reign it in. These words slipped in and out of conversation, simply words, though he rarely meant offense. Minerva fixed his scarf and buttoned his coat. People glanced at them, probably wondering what the reverend’s daughter saw in a man her father’s age; Elphinstone and the reverend shared the same birthdate. 

“She’s wondering if you share a bed with me,” guessed Elphinstone, holding a lantern aloft. Due to unexpected weather, electricity went out through the outskirts of the city and Muggles grumbled about troubles. 

“You’re a Leglimens now?” Minerva rested her head on his shoulder. 

“No, I understand people well. Think your father will bend the no magic rule?” Elphinstone put a hand under her chin as they passed underneath a threshold. Mistletoe hung there. “Kiss me.” 

“Absolutely not.” Minerva, conscious of the stares and the whispers, stepped back. Elphinstone went back to his old standby and flashed her his crinkly-eyed smile, though this did little to soften her. Minerva’s frowned at him and stood her ground. Elphinstone insisted he marked himself as a stranger in the manse and the community turned their eyes in him in the church. “We’ve had this conversation about how I’m the one nobody touches.” 

 

“And yet I’m the one who suffers from dragon pox.” Elphinstone lowered his voice and reminded Minerva of a small boy. 

“I was going for leper, but yes, that fits, too,” said Minerva fairly, ducking out of the way when Elphinstone played with the snow. The visibility crippled her severely because she only saw three feet out. She stumbled along, finding his laughter helpful. “You can’t hear and I can’t see.” 

“Here.” Elphinstone took off her spectacles because Minerva couldn't see anyway and stowed them in his coat for safekeeping. He laughed, and she eventually joined in, too, unable to help herself. Elphinstone brushed Minerva’s hair out of her eyes and took it down. It fell down her back. “I like it this way.” 

Minerva rarely wore her hair in any other fashion. On occasion, usually on Christmas and Easter whenever she actually made it home, she decided on a single plait or a braided bun. She knew well how to play his passions, and perhaps this recalled a simple game of cat and mouse, for they both enjoyed playing by no rules. Elphinstone fixed her hair, nothing other than running through it with his fingers; his touch sent goosebumps up her skin. 

“Elphinstone? The ice you’re standing on? It’s dangerously thin.” Minerva tightened her fingers around his wrist. In Caithness, her father held a quiet, radiant power, and no doubt word got back to him.

“A man … forget a man. I want to make love to my wife,” said Elphinstone, lowering his tone, despite the fact no passerby could hear him. Minerva flushed, her pale skin revealing what she wanted to hide behind a mask. Elphinstone noticed, cleared his throat, and steered her off to the side. “You are a teacher at the school. You represent your father here, but you aren’t this person … you are my friend, my confidant, my lover, and mine wife. I love you.” 

Minerva remembered sitting in the courtroom simply to hear this man weave through eloquent words like he crafted the old with the new in a tapestry, for Elphinstone sharpened his skills as an orator. The law changed here and there, forever a step behind change, yet it built a foundation upon which everything else stood. 

They walked back towards the house, hand in hand, and she danced with him, wrapped in his drunken, intoxicating happiness. Elphinstone taught her to dance a long time ago. They found their way back to each other in this way; she could dance the waltz in her sleep. She matched him step for step, not faltering as she did back in the day. As their hands came together, people carrying parcels and bags stopped and stared at the strange couple by the lamppost. 

“Oh.” Minerva inhaled, catching her breath when Elphinstone dipped her into a pose. He leaned in, drawing her in with his forever lingering scent of peppermint and tobacco. She touched his lips before she kissed him passionately. 

Elphinstone smiled softly when they broke apart. “I love you.” 

“I love you.”

“Goodness, you said it aloud.” Elphinstone spoke up, alight with happiness. 

A few of the villagers laughed appreciatively and complimented Minerva simply because she was the reverend’s daughter. Minerva, a private person, waved good night and wished them all blessings for the new year, hoping she mirrored a strategic move like her father. 

“For you.” Elphinstone let her go ahead and purchased a matchbook and a bouquet of poinsettia from a small girl. Minerva took the flowers, smiling at the small gesture; Elphinstone cherished the small stuff and wore his heart on his sleeve. 

“Thank you.” Minerva insisted this was unnecessary. 

Elphinstone came from a dying breed, as Minerva’s father put it, for gentlemen drew to an end with these changing times. Why bother with keeping a dying tradition alive when nobody bothered with such things? They headed back into the manse. A sleek black car sat in the driveway. Minerva offered Elphinstone a smoke, and she stood outside to keep him company simply because they liked being together. 

The reverend sat on the couch working his way through newspapers. Elphinstone said hello, and Minerva, preoccupied, pecked her father on the cheek before she passed into the kitchen. She’d married her husband back in September, and they slept together, but they still hadn't crossed a task off the list; she tried on their wedding night and unintentionally scarred Elphinstone with enough embarrassment for a lifetime.

Minerva placed the flowers in a vase and set this on the table before she started to consider the options for a light dinner.. She shared a bed, a home, and finances with her husband, and yet, deep down, Minerva slept with a stranger. 

Elphinstone handed over Minerva's rectangular spectacles. “It would really make my day if you would walk into a wall.” 

Minerva saw indistinguishable shades and shapes, yet she wasn't completely blind. Housekeepers cleaned the manse, but the furniture hadn't been moved in years. She put her spectacles on, shot him a look and went to hug her father. Another face in the crowd, Robert McGonagall stayed unremarkable on purpose because it helped him blend into the background. He lived for the church and the congregation took care of him. Like Minerva, he had dark hair and beady eyes and wore simple clothing. 

“Papa.” Minerva came back, drying her hands on a dishtowel as she settled on pork chops and mash for dinner. The reverend, who sprung up a conversation with Elphinstone, shook his finger disapprovingly at her as the salad tossed itself in the background. 

“What are you doing?” The reverend looked up from his reading. 

“Dinner,” said Minerva uncertainly, her statement sounding more like a question. 

“I’ll gladly take the fall for you on this one.” Elphinstone shooed her out of the kitchen and laughed when Minerva she stayed on top of things. “Oh, dearie, it’s all jolly fun until you burn down the house and some fella comes banging on the door collecting property taxes. You knock something up? You’re cute.” 

Minerva eyed him carefully when he swatted at her playfully with the spatula. “I could cook … if I wanted …” 

“No, dearie, no. You can't.” Elphinstone snatched a knife out of the knife block and went to town on apples and onions. 

“Where did you learn?” The reverend, impressed, raised his eyebrows as the delicious smells from the kitchen invited him inside. He didn't raise the slightest complaint or objection as the seared itself in a frying pan. 

“At home. If you’re going to live as a bachelor and you want to eat and eat well,” said Elphinstone, helping himself to a bit of apple cider, “you learn to make something out of nothing. Got any cream cheese?” 

“I don't know,” said the reverend, fishing a parcel out of the silent refrigerator. 

“Ah. Good.” Elphinstone tossed this into his mash. Minerva ruined it, and the man somehow brought it back to life with simple ingredients and without magic. He tasted it, added a little green, snd offered the spoon to Minerva. “Other than what I added to the mash, what were you missing?” 

“Salt.” Minerva swallowed her mess as Elphinstone added salt and a bob of butter. “Well, at least Papa knows you won’t let me starve.” 

“Nope.” Elphinstone made quick work with the rest of the meal as he chatted with the reverend about his law days. They sat down at the table, and Minerva helped herself to her father’s wine collection. “I worked in a Muggle restaurant to make ends meet because you don't make a lot of money in those first few years as a law student.” 

Minerva barely touched her dinner as her mind drifted back to when she’d been a nobody in a dirty city. As she’d grown up on a minister’s salary, the gold seemed more than enough. She wondered what would have happened had she stayed in London and fought for a position amongst the prominent pureblood gentlemanly society. 

“Well, I think I’ll turn in.” Minerva placed her napkin on her plate. 

“But you’ve barely touched your food.” The reverend, who tucked in and asked for seconds, waved his fork in her direction and delighted in a candlelit dinner. “It’s almost like the days in the war.” 

“World war, the second one.” Minerva answered Elphinstone's questioning look. She rolled her eyes, rather lost on whether to give the clarification here as she got to her feet. She turned to her father. “Papa, may Elphinstone peruse a few volumes in your office for a bit of light reading?” 

The reverend set down his wine glass. “Light?” 

“I read at night. A lot.” Elphinstone read anything and everything, basically anything he could get his hands on simply to get lost in a book. 

“I think I have a biography on Churchill.” The reverend scratched his chin, trying to remember if this held true. He wished them good night. 

“He’s very impressed by you, Mr. Urquart,”. Minerva led him into the guest bedroom and tended to the dying fire. Elphinstone, surprised, raised his eyebrows and asked why. Since he’d already broken the no magic rule, or he perhaps thought it didn't apply to him, he pointed his wand at the grate. A warm, crackling fire erupted there. “I’ve always been impressed with you.” 

 

“A boring estates lawyer, yes,” sighed Elphinstone, not buying a word of it. He fished a cigarette out of her jacket and stuck it between his lips. 

“You cannot smoke in here, fool.” Minerva insisted he not smoke in their cottage, though he insisted he liked the feel of the filter. Minerva stowed the cigarette back in the parcel, deciding she’d ration them.

“I think your father and I would’ve been friends,” said Elphinstone, shrugging off his coat and tossing hers on top of it. 

“Not a bad idea,” said Minerva, throwing her arms around his neck and distracting him with small kisses. “You can't have many friends when you’re everyone’s friend and father figure. I think he’s lonely since Mummy died.” 

“What would your mother have said about this? May I kiss you now?” Elphinstone waited for permission, a nod to a gesture almost forgotten, and he lifted her in his arms and laid her down on the bed. Minerva laughed when he nipped at her neck. “I don't think she would’ve approved.” 

“What is it you told me the night all this hate mail come in about me keeping my name?” Minerva unhooked his trousers and helped him along. “‘There are two people in a marriage. So why share our happiness with anyone else?’ Are you happy?” 

“Mmm hmmm,” he murmured, not really listening to her. 

Minerva sighed, content. When they finished, Elphinstone held her in his arms. Clearly the romantic, Minerva often wondered if their roles somehow got switched when they got comfortable with each other. Whenever she dropped the Mr. Urquart business, Elphinstone said they spent a lot of their time taking two steps foward and three steps back. So this made for an interesting dance, although they always found their way back to each other in this horizontal one.

“I missed you,” she said, her voice catching unexpectedly in her throat. “We’re all reeling off this war. I miss my brother .. and I miss Benjy, too. But you can't leave. Your happiness is my happiness … and your pain is mine, too. Share your life with me.” 

“Minerva,” said Elphinstone softly. 

“I love you, all right? They sent Benjy to you in a black box and you left me. You were here, but I didn't know how to get you back.” Minerva’s tears spilled into her hair, yet she didn't bother wiping them away. Elphinstone cried, too. “You can’t walk away. You promised me.” 

“Yes,” he said, weary. 

“It will get easier.” Minerva ran her fingers through his white hair, Elphinstone asked how she knew this. “I don't. But you are not alone. Benjy always said …” 

“I made that baker’s boy from scratch. Benjy always said stuff because he couldn't shut the hell up.” 

Elphinstone shrugged when Minerva laughed so hard she cried. There was a knock on the bedroom door and footsteps went down the corridor. Elphinstone found two thick volumes and a tray of hot chocolate and biscuits just outside their door. He climbed back in bed, snuggling next to Minerva, all right for the moment.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it. Please review.


End file.
